


Risk Another Goodbye

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Choking, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Penetrative Sex, Smut, Sub Kim Mingyu, Vaginal Fingering, mentions of breakup, self-loathing and unspoken thoughts/emotions (on Mingyu's part)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Months after the breakup, a spontaneous tryst gives Mingyu a chance to reconcile with you, but this time, he finds HE'S the one at risk for heartbreak.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Risk Another Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Mingyu x Female Reader
> 
> Format: Mingyu’s POV
> 
> Warnings & Features: profanity; mentions of breakup; self-loathing & unspoken thoughts/emotions (on Mingyu’s part); graphic sexual content; cunnilingus; fingering; penetrative sex; choking; slight sub!Mingyu; angst without a happy ending
> 
> Author’s Note: I don’t have anything to say for myself. I just wanted to write angst-y Mingyu smut, so I did.

“Come on girl, you’re right there, I can feel it.”

Mingyu can also feel his own breath on his face as it breaks across your cunt. He tries to focus on that instead of worrying whether you picked up on how he almost recklessly added a _‘baby’_ before the _‘girl.’_ You might be allowing him near your cunt again, but he has no right to call you pet names anymore - maybe ever again. He knows that, and he wants _you_ to know he knows that, but he’s not sure you do. He’s making an effort for the first time in a long time and you don’t even know.

“J-Jesus _fuck_ , Gyu,” you swear, breathless and beautiful. Nicknames are in line with pet names, and you may as well have called him every sweet old thing you did for years by the way Mingyu’s heart clenches. His lips would probably go dry if they weren’t coated in you. At least _some_ of his efforts are not going unappreciated.

He takes another swallow of your juices and concentrates on pumping a finger into that spot he mapped out deep inside you long ago. “Come on, ___, _come_ ,” he urges again. He doesn’t add the _‘for me,’_ but _fuck, he wants to._

You’re panting his name again in both half and full syllables, begging him to do exactly what he’s already just told you to do. “Yes yes _yes_ , keep going, Gyu, make me come… Don’t fucking _stop_ , Mingyu, please…”

 _I would never do that,_ he wants to answer, but it would probably feel a lot like the boy who cried wolf. Even in this context, he can’t risk the words being salt in the wounds. He likes to believe they’re still as fresh for you as they are for him. Maybe that makes him cruel. _(‘You mean_ more _cruel,’ this stupid voice in his head corrects.)_

But you’re lying here with your legs spread for him, so maybe you’re not so high and mighty, either.

Mingyu opens his mouth to keep from grinding his teeth. He grazes them on your plumped clit and flickers his tongue the way he learned makes you shake. Once you start, he adds another finger, and you welcome it with a cant of your hips.

“Th-there! Mmm, I’m r-right _there_ , Gyu, _fuck_ , keep going, keep going...”

For old times’ sake, he wishes you would clutch his hair like you’re clutching his sheets. He wishes you still shared his sheets. He was going to wash them today - he was always better about staying on top of that sort of thing than you - but now he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to bear stripping the smell of your perfume from them, let alone strip them from his mattress. As proud as he is of his ritualistic chores, he is also painfully self-aware of how prone he is to giving things emotional bearings. You always did tease him for hoarding the most frivolous things for their supposed sentimental value - a ticket stub, a hair clip, a sticky note with a faded but sweet _‘Thinking of You’_ message. _You_ were always the one with sensibility and impulse control, not him.

_Then again, you’re the one lying here with your-_

Mingyu closes his swollen lips around your bud - now is usually when you start to get impatient for it - and sucks just hard enough to make it good. You gasp and hold your breath there. Your muscles pull taut, including those inside you, and that’s how he knows without a doubt you’re about to tip over. You’re usually whiny and vocal as you climb to your climax, but you always fall tense and silent when you’re about to crest. He curls his fingers with stronger intent. His arm is burning and his jaw is numbing, but he forces himself to keep every movement perfectly consistent like it’s the least he can do for you. _(‘She deserves so much more,’ the voice tsks. ‘She always did,’ he agrees with himself for once.)_

Although he could sense it coming, the series of tight clenches on his fingers still surprises him. You don’t cry his name when you come; the high-pitched squeak is wordless and barely audible by the most liberal standards, but to Mingyu, it’s everything. He replies with a deep moan and flicks his eyes upward so he doesn’t miss his favorite part: _you_ , in the throes of a high _he_ gave you.

One of your hands slaps against the headboard in search of purchase stronger than cotton. Your head whips to the side, and Mingyu gladly lets you rock against his face to wring that pleasure for all it’s worth because you’re so fucking gorgeous it hurts.

Even as he works proudly to keep you riding that high as long as possible, he can’t help but reach down with his free hand to adjust the unbearable strain in his jeans. He has to do it now while you’re too caught up to notice how weak he is. _(‘Oh, she already knows,’ the irritating voice demeans.)_

Mingyu carefully withdraws his soaked fingers and flattens his tongue along your slit. He traces his fingertips gingerly along your folds just to smear you with his spit and your cum then lick it right up. The trembling in your limbs tells him you can’t take much more stimulation, but he lingers greedily, nuzzling and lapping you as clean as he can. He has no intentions of ever coming up for air.

“You’ll prune your pretty face if you stay down there much longer.”

It’s lewd, but it may be the nicest compliment you’ve given him in months, indirect as it is. He’ll take the crumb; he’s been starving. And he’s not sure if you actually _intended_ to make him laugh, but it expands throughout his chest and huffs out of his mouth anyway.

With a smile on his glossy lips, he finally draws back from between your hips and props himself up on his hands to get the full survey of you in your post-bliss glow. Your chest is still heaving gently beneath your shirt; neither of you had bothered to remove it because your bottom half had been in more urgent need of nudity at the time. You are not looking at him; your head is still bent to the side, eyes closed as you collect yourself. The shaky hand still on the headboard comes down to rub across your sparkling forehead. There is also sweat on your neck and cheeks, and your eyelashes look damp, too.

Suddenly, Mingyu wonders if he will witness a wave of shame and regret wash over you in real time once you come all the way down and realize what’s just happened. If you’re still half the person he thinks you are, you probably _should_ be ashamed of falling into this tryst with him. He does not believe himself to be nearly half the person you are, yet he almost regrets this. Almost.

The amusement over your little joke a moment ago drops like lead, straight to his stomach, and his dick steadily shrinks soft. He pushes backward off his hands to wipe his nose and chin off with the inside of his t-shirt. He considers leaving it on, but eventually sighs and yanks it up over his head to toss it toward the hamper on his way to the bathroom.

He returns with a clean towel, but you don’t reach to take it when he offers it. You just sit up and stare at his face. Mingyu stares back, trying to discern what you’ve disguised your shame and regret with. After several seconds, he gives up on the puzzle and gives the towel another shake in your direction. “You can take a shower if you w-”

He thought you would appreciate his hospitality, but instead you interrupt him by tugging hard on his forearm with both hands. He drops the towel and lets you pull him back down to the bed. You slide onto his lap, and his hands automatically go to grip your waist, thinking you might need his help for balance, but you’re perfectly steady.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, looking straight in his face.

His dick stirs optimistically, but he still doesn’t want to make any bold assumptions about where the question is leading. “I- what?”

“A condom,” you repeat patiently. “I’m… I’d believe you if you said you’re clean, but I haven’t been keeping up on my birth control.”

The supposed faith you have in him leaves Mingyu temporarily dumbfounded. You have to lean in closer and raise your eyebrows questioningly before he remembers what you were asking him in the first place.

“You- I- Um…” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I have one. Some.” He mentally winces at the hasty clarification. What does it matter if you know he has more than one condom on hand? So you know he’s prepared in case it breaks? No, now he just sounds too hopeful you’ll entertain the idea of sticking around for more than one round.

For the sake of his sanity, he has to ask, “Did you want to…” And then he’s not sure how to finish wording it. Have sex? Fuck me? Let me make love to you?

“Yes,” you answer his half-formed question. “Do _you_ want to?”

If he wasn’t helplessly trapped in the pools of your eyes - and if his head wasn’t currently somewhere in the bulge of his crotch - he might give the question more than half a second of deliberation before croaking: “ _Yes.._.”

You pick apart the fastenings on his jeans, and it’s his turn to hold his breath when you pull his cock free. He is equal parts excited and apprehensive watching you stroke him back to full hardness. You used to hail praises over his cock and all the things you claimed it did to you. Did you mean any of it, or were the things you said just byproducts of the feelings you had for him? Your feelings for him have definitely changed since the last time you had his dick in your hands. _(‘That tends to happen when you break someone’s heart,’ the wise voice chuckles.)_

Mingyu pats your hips and guides you off his lap to kick off the last of his clothes and retrieve the condom you asked for. As much as he would like to feel you raw again, he still tears open the packaging and rolls the latex onto himself without complaint because no matter what you might think, he’s capable of being responsible.

He’s making an effort.

When he looks back to the bed, you’re sitting topless against the headboard, dropping your bra to the side and watching him with what he thinks is your own look of excited apprehension. He sinks his knees into the mattress and asks the first thing he thinks is sexy while crawling toward you. “How do you want it?”

You move aside when he gets too close. “Sit here,” you direct with a nod of your head.

He trades places without taking his eyes off you. You straddle yourself across his knees and run your hands up his twitching thigh muscles. His cock jumps into your fingers the moment they stretch toward it. You smile at his body’s automatic reaction and tug your fist along his shaft to test the security of the condom (he guesses), then drop a ball of spit onto the tip and spread it down. The molten pit in Mingyu’s stomach flares through every nerve ending in his body when you move forward and line yourself up with him.

“O- _oh_ , holy fuck…” he groans, resisting the urge to thrust upward and rush your pace. Physically, your pussy feels more or less like any other Mingyu has been inside, but it is also undeniably comforting to feel your unique weight on his lap and your warm walls hugging him again. To think he left because comfort had started to feel stagnant… _(‘You’re such an idiot,’ the voice sighs.)_

You drag your hips in a slow circle, and Mingyu pretends he can feel every soaked crevice on his bare skin. “Oh my god, that’s tight,” you voice his thoughts exactly. “I forgot how big you are.”

His dick pulses harder at the stroke to its ego, but Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He skitters his hands down your naked frame, from your shoulders to the sides of your breasts down to your hips. He wants to keep his grip there on your soft skin, but you yank his hands up above his head and lean in to push him into the headboard with your tits while you buck against him.

“Right there,” you breathe against his mouth, pressing his raised arms into the cold wall. Mingyu licks his lips and nods. He tries to lock his fingers between yours, but you pull away too soon and brace your hands against his chest instead. “Right there, Gyu,” you repeat, so he keeps his hands right where you left them. He’s not entirely convinced this is real, but he’s happy to do anything you say.

You rock against him quick, keeping your pelvis as close to his as possible to leave him as deep as he can get. Gradually, your hands slide up his chest until they’re clutching his shoulders, and the leverage helps you ride him faster. It’s not graceful; the way you’re moving against him is messy and crude. It’s not love-making; you’re just using his hard cock as a means to a spine-tingling end. It makes him feel dirty. Dirtier when he realizes he desperately _wants_ to be used.

“Choke me,” he whispers out of the blue. You snap your eyes to his and slow your movements. When you don’t answer him or do as he says, he says it again with more conviction. “Choke me.”

You stop rocking against him altogether and tentatively splay a hand over his Adam’s apple. “Are you sure?”

It doesn’t even take him half a second this time to answer, “Yes,” because even now, in the _After_ part of your relationship, he still trusts you as much as he always did. _(‘Too bad_ she _can’t say the same.’ If the voice had a face, Mingyu is sure it would be smirking, and he’s sure he would want to punch it.)_

You run your thumb gently along the column of his throat from one side to the other. “Do you remember the safe signal?” Your voice and your touch are so gentle it makes Mingyu’s heart seize, then sprint. He vaguely wonders if you can feel the spike in his pulse. Surely you can.

“I th-think so,” he murmurs, suddenly shy.

“Pinch me on either thigh and I’ll stop,” you spell out plainly, confirming his suspicions. “But you can only move your hands if you need to pinch me, otherwise I want them to stay up above your pretty face, okay?”

Mingyu takes your words as law and nods. Then he blurts, “Thank you,” before he even realizes what he is saying or why exactly. Maybe because you’re complimenting him a little more directly this time? A pitiful blush burns the tips of his ears.

You let out a breath that might be the start of a laugh, but you don’t comment on his sudden appreciation. You just readjust your weight over him and apply more pressure on his neck as you continue moving your hips, this time by lifting up and dropping back down slowly.

Mingyu’s whole face goes slack at the return of the slippery friction; his mouth drops open and his eyes fall shut. Only a few seconds in, he already wants to take you by the waist, not because you need his guidance, but merely to ground himself against the dizzying heights you’re taking him to. He doesn’t dare disobey you, though. He needs you to praise him for his good behavior, so he keeps his fists clenched above his head and lets you choke his whimpers. He’s making an effort.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you pant, squeezing and picking up speed. “S-so fucking _good_ , Mingyu...”

He peels his eyelashes apart again at the sound of his name. He loves when you say it like a hymn. Your own eyes are clenched shut and your sweaty eyebrows are furrowed. He loves when you’re concentrated on your pleasure.

“So good… feels so f-fucking good,” he echoes, raspy with lust and decreased oxygen. His hips twitch restlessly every time they come into contact with yours. His toes curl in on themselves. He still feels dirty from being used, but he fucking loves it. “H-harder. Do it harder, ___,” he begs.

You don’t look at him when he says your name, but you do question him. “Mm, you sure you want it harder?”

Mingyu writhes and whines, “Y-yes... Want you to make me _f-feel_ it.”

His words cause just the reaction he was hoping for. A grin crosses your lips as you reopen your eyes. “Alright then. You’ll let me know if it’s too much, right?” you check.

“I will,” he promises, nodding once again. He gingerly twists his neck to challenge your grip and hums gratefully when you clench tighter with both your hand and your pussy. He tries to encourage you with a, _‘That’s it, baby,’_ but the words can’t quite make it through his windpipe now - just the way he likes it. Probably for the best, anyway; he had no intention of curbing the pet name this time.

Your hips are slamming into his now. The slaps of your ass against his thighs are ringing throughout the room, possibly throughout Mingyu’s entire apartment. The smell of sweat and sex is going to linger for a while, but he doesn’t mind. All he cares about right now is the way you’re engulfing him and giving him ideas by staring at his lips with hooded eyes. You watch him move them in an attempt to make yet another request, and you graciously ease the pressure on his neck to let him voice it.

“Kiss me.”

Your breath hitches in a way he can’t tell is good or bad. Same with the way your eyes darken. You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips a few times, then raise your hand from his neck. He doesn’t have time to be disappointed before you’re grabbing him by the chin and sending his heart racing again. You dig your fingers into his cheeks, not too gently, but not harsh enough to scare him, either.

“Say it again,” you breathe across his face, tilting your head to the side as you regard him with scrutiny.

“Please, ___. Kiss me.”

Mingyu grunts at the impact of your lips. You hold tight to his jaw to guide him deeper into the kiss the way you want, slipping your tongue between his teeth to stroke inside his mouth. You taste like sugar. He probably tastes like the juice smearing across both your laps. You don’t seem to mind.

You’re on him, around him, holding him, drinking him up in rough drags, and he still can’t get enough of you. His arms are starting to tremble where they’re still folded against the wall above him. But just as he considers making another greedy request, you give him an answer to his prayers.

“Touch me,” you pant into his mouth.

He practically growls as he lunges to obey, instantly taking the back of your head in one hand and the small of your back in the other to better mould you to him. You whimper and let him pull you close. It’s a tiny sound and a fleeting moment Mingyu cherishes a little more than he should. Before he knows it, you draw away with one last nip of your teeth to his bottom lip.

“Touch me, Mingyu,” you repeat, reaching for the hand he has behind your head and pushing it down between your bodies. “Finish us both.”

You don’t realize the salt your words put in his wounds, even in this context. You probably don’t think he _has_ any wounds. _He_ broke up with _you_ , after all. You don’t even know...

Mingyu shakes off the oblivious jab and licks his thumb with a generous amount of spit to press it against the stiff button between your legs. You moan loudly on contact, and the pace you’d been keeping loses all rhythm. It’s just vague motions at this point, up and down, back and forth. Everything is saturated in heat - the air, the sheets, your skin, your blood.

“So close, so close, I’m so fucking close,” you chant.

Mingyu uses his free hand to take one of yours and place it back around his neck. “M-me too. Come with me, ___.”

You toss your head back and squeeze his throat like you really mean it this time. Mingyu rubs your clit faster and fucks up into you with rough, determined thrusts. You explode before him; he can tell even without you announcing your climax with a tempered shriek of his name. Your pussy clamps around him to take him with you, and he follows you right over the edge. Deep grunts rumble in his chest and flashes of light and shadow burst behind his eyelids as his climax scorches him from the inside. He can’t feel anything but heat and pleasure stacked endlessly over one another as his cock spurts ribbons of cum into the condom.

Eventually, his taut body releases whatever pent up energy he has left, and he slumps against the headboard with a surprising thud; he hadn’t realized how far away from it he had arched. You, too, slump down as your high gradually fades, falling into him weightlessly. Mingyu isn’t sure when you let go of his neck; he’s only now realizing he is able to breathe freely again. He circles his arms around you and instinctively presses a kiss to your temple, then lies his cheek against it with a nuzzle. If you’re put off by the tender intimacy, you don’t let him know.

When both of your breathing patterns and heart rates settle to somewhere closer to the calm side of the spectrum, you squirm against him. Mingyu reaches to grab the base of his softening dick and keep the condom in place as you pull off his lap and plop down beside him. He sits up to remove the condom, tie it off, and gently drop it aside on the floor to deal with later.

“That was-” His voice comes out like sandpaper. He clears the cracks in his throat and tries again. “That was amazing. Wasn’t it?” He looks down at you for confirmation.

You smile up at him softly, and Mingyu swears he’s never seen anything prettier than your afterglow. “ _Really_ amazing,” you agree.

He starts to sidle himself comfortably beside you, but you twist away to stand up and start searching around the room.

“Going to shower now?” he asks. He hopes it comes out more casual than hopeful.

You shake your head. “No, I have to be going.” You find your bra first and strap it back on, then fit your arms back into the sleeves of your shirt.

“You don’t have to...” Mingyu’s voice is weak, and not just from the burn in his throat now.

The look you give him while stepping back into your underwear is chastising, as though to say, _‘You don’t know what I do and don’t have to do anymore.’_ And you’re right.

“You could stay,” he continues anyway.

You take the time to relocate your pants and slide them back on before you reply, “Stay and do what?”

“I don’t know. Talk?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you decline flatly.

Mingyu swings his legs off the bed and reaches for you on your way to the door. He catches you by the hip, and with a sigh, you let him turn you to stand between his spread legs. “What do you mean there’s nothing to talk about? What about what we just did?” he asks.

You meet his eyes for a second, then drop them to the floor and shrug. “It felt amazing, like I said. But it was probably a mistake. What we just did hasn’t changed anything, has it?”

He swallows dryly and rubs half-circles into your hip while he searches for the right thing to say - _(‘Tell her you want it to. Tell her you fucked up back then. Tell her nothing feels right anymore without her. Tell her you’ll make an effort and_ keep _making efforts this time because it’s what she deserves.’)_ \- but the weight of the moment is making him dizzy and he can’t think of a single thing.

After a long moment of deafening silence, you step back. “I have to go,” you remind him quietly.

( _‘She’s leaving before you can say goodbye to her again. Don’t do that. Don’t let her.’_ )

“I shouldn’t have-” Mingyu blurts.

You freeze with your hand on the door and turn your head over your shoulder to give him one last chance.

Mingyu looks you in the eyes and sighs. “I should have handled things differently.”

“Yeah, you should have,” you agree. There is a bite in your tone that makes him flinch. “You should have had the guts to tell me when you didn’t love me anymore. I mean, I always knew I was the one who loved you more, but-”

You let the words hang in the humid air. Maybe you hope they’ll smother him. Maybe they just will.

_(‘Tell her that’s not true. Tell her how ridiculous it is for her to even think that. Tell her you still love her, so much so that you don’t even know what to do with your stupid self anymore.’)_

All Mingyu can think about is how he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you again. So he sits in silence and stares at you helplessly. You nod your head like you’ve convinced yourself of something, then leave.

Mingyu sits numbly on his bed where you left him. The sun tints the room from yellow, to orange, to pink, to gray, and still Mingyu sits.

Tonight, he’ll sleep in his dirty sheets, ruminating on how he foolishly ended a good thing, let it slip right through his fingers again, and everything he should have said and done to make a better effort for you.

* * *

_Copyright © 2020 ditzymax. All rights reserved._


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